


The Hollow 1

by idyll



Series: The Hollow [1]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Canon, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, Prostitution, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-05
Updated: 2004-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyll/pseuds/idyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gunn takes up a prostitute on an offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hollow 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rubywisp](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rubywisp), [obsessedmuch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=obsessedmuch).



Gunn sees the guy from a block away. He stands out like a sore thumb in his neighborhood, with his long hair and cowboy boots. You don't see much of that around here. Mostly it's dolled-up pretty boys with a strut. This one's leaning against a gated storefront, one leg bent and the heel of his boot hooked in the gate, hands hanging loosely from the pockets of his low-slung jeans with holes in the knee and thigh, looking all trailer-park chic in a white wifebeater.

But he sizes up Gunn just the same as the others do, with a considering tilt of the head and a calculating look that's hidden only to people who don't know any better. The biggest difference between this one and the others, though? This one pushes away from the gate and sets himself in Gunn's path.

The unexpectedness of it. That's why Gunn stops. Really. It's not because of the lips. Or the eyes. Or the ass that the guy makes sure to show off. It's just that it's unusual. And he's not still standing there because the smile he gets is laced with something that screams _fuckmehard_. He's not even considering doing this.

"Hey. How's it going?"

"So not interested," Gunn says and tries move around corn-fed, but the guy moves with him. "What word didn't you understand? 'Cause maybe my fist could tell you what it means."

The guy holds up his hands, all non-threatening, and lowers his eyes, like Gunn thinks he's a threat to begin with. He's nothing more than skin stretched over muscle, and there's enough bitter anger on the surface that it'd be easy to turn it against him. He gives Gunn another smile, this one slow and charming.

"Understood all the words. Just don't think you mean them." The smile turns sly and Gunn wants to deck him on principle. Smug bastard. "Look like you could use something different."

Gunn arches a brow. "Different. Right. Because one whore ain't the same as the next." The guy's face tightens at that, and Gunn realizes the eyes have stayed lowered. This guy isn't exactly the pro he thinks he is, not if he can't lie with his eyes as good as he can with the rest of him. "Get out of my way, or that pretty face of yours is going to be a lot less pretty."

Maybe he _is_ more of a pro than Gunn gave him credit for, because he recovers fast and grabs hold of the opening Gunn didn't mean to give him. He steps closer and ignores the way Gunn straightens up and tenses, and Gunn's so focused on getting the attitude right that he misses the movement.

One second he's puffing himself up, the next second there's a hand on his crotch.

It's the unexpected of it. That's why he doesn't move right away. It has nothing to do with the fact that the guy knows what he's doing, or the way those damn lips part while he works Gunn.

"I know your type," the guy drawls, sugar-whisky-honey-husky voice in full effect. "Dependable, go-to, stand-up kind of guy. Got everyone looking up to you, but all you really want is a hard, rough fuck up against a wall."

Smug. Little. Fucker. Gunn pushes him back against the gate, pins him there and glares down at him. All he gets in return is a thrust of hips and a mile-wide grin.

"My mistake. Up against a _gate_. With someone you don't have to look at after, who can take it and like it. Who won't think you're any less--"

Gunn shuts him up with his mouth, and he won't call it a kiss because it's something less than that. It ends almost immediately and just abruptly as it started. "You got a name?"

Shutters come down over the guy's eyes. "You don't need to know it."

The little shit knows his stuff, was right about what he said to Gunn, and that means he decided to pick up Gunn because of it. Which gives Gunn the freedom to take hold of his shoulders, haul him away from the gate, then slam him back against it.

"Tell me your name." Silence. Another shove. "Name." One more shove, and this one gets him a gasp and hardness pressing against his thigh.

"Lindsey."

Gunn gives Lindsey a smile before dragging him halfway down the block, then into an alley. Not that much dragging is required; Lindsey is more than eager. Once they're deep in the alley Gunn pushes him away so hard he stumbles, but he bounds back pretty damn fast to snatch the money Gunn pulls out of his wallet.

Lindsey backs away, and there's more leaning, this time against the grimy wall of the alley. All that prettiness against that dirt does something to Gunn and now he's the one moving damn fast. He spins Lindsey around and makes him face the wall, then reaches around to cram his hands into the pockets of Lindsey's jeans. He comes back out with one of the condoms from the right pocket, and several small tubes from the other. Sample lube. Disposable. Three different kinds. Gunn palms the cinnamon and puts the other two back.

"Know _your_ type," he says right in Lindsey's ear, grinding against his ass. "Meant for bigger things than this, right? Got taken away from you and you're better than this. But all you get is fucked fast and hard against a scummy wall in some city you ain't never been to. Hate it, but you get off on it."

The only response is a string of curses and some struggling that is half-hearted at best.

Gunn holds him against the wall until he settles, then asks, "You wanna call it off, Lindsey?" He knows damn well the answer is no, because one of his hands is still by Lindsey's pocket, and the boy's harder than fuck right now.

"Shut the fuck _up_," Lindsey snaps.

Gunn does. He reaches for his belt and gets his dick out and the condom on; Lindsey slides his own jeans down his hips then braces his hands against the wall. The scent of the lube is sharp and spicy when Gunn slicks himself up, the motions slow as he gets a nice look at the pretty boy spread before him, ass jutting out and ready.

When presses forward the tip of his dick brushes against Lindsey's ass. Gunn takes hold of the back of his neck with one hand. "Spread yourself," he says, and it's not about necessity in the least. Lindsey doesn't move right away, so Gunn tightens the grip at his nape. "Spread."

Resentful tension coils in him as his hands move back to open himself, and Gunn knows this is going to be damn damn damn fast once it gets goes, so he lets Lindsey stay like that for a long moment before he moves his dick into place. He rests against the entrance for another long moment, and Lindsey is vibrating now--waiting waiting waiting--and Gunn lets it drag on the littlest bit longer before pushing his hips forward.

The grip around his dick is fucking loose, but still so tight, and there's only surprised pleasure in the sounds Lindsey makes as a result. Gunn doesn't pause, just pulls back and then slams forward again, and he shoves Lindsey's hands away so he can brace himself against the wall, which he does, resting forearms there and dropping his head on his crossed wrists.

It's exactly the way Lindsey told him he liked it--hard, rough and fast--and so damn good it's like his dick is going to explode before he even comes. And Lindsey is groaning and panting, clenching tight and making Gunn work to pull back, opening up and welcoming him back in, and thrusting his ass back for more. Gunn thinks maybe he should have had him face forward so that he could hook his hands under those thighs, make him bounce on his dick and take it even deeper.

Everything is tight and hot and hard and good, and he can't think much past the haze of it all, but he still manages to take Lindsey's dick in his hand and jerk him off. Lindsey's growling in time with the hand on his dick, but there's a frustrated tension to him, and Gunn knows he won't come and he knows why, too: whores don't come.

Fuck if he'll let it play that way. He sets his mouth against Lindsey's ear, still fucking him hard and fast, and talks to him, makes him talk back, and with every word Lindsey gets wilder and wilder, closer and closer. Gunn works his dick with twisting motions and Lindsey almost fucking _keens_ , and that's what does him in, the little smug bastard keening like a cat in heat. He thrusts harder and deeper than before and then he's coming so damn _good_ that he thinks he might pass the hell out, and it's just another few strokes before Lindsey freezes for an instant, then shakes against Gunn as he shoots, his come streaming down Gunn's hand.

Lindsey disentangles them pretty quickly, and there's noticeable strain in the line of his back as he pulls his jeans up. Gunn tosses the rubber aside, tucks himself back in and zips up again. He catches Lindsey's eyes and the mess of resentment and anger and hatred and bitterness makes him start, makes him want to offer up the remaining money in his wallet, even though he knows it won't change a single damn thing in those eyes.

Gunn leaves him standing in the alley with his hands clenched into fists and goes home to drink himself to sleep.

.End


End file.
